


Here there be Monsters

by Atlanta_Black



Series: Harry Potter One-shots [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Monsters, Pre-Relationship, boarding school scandals, myths, there's so much to unpack in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanta_Black/pseuds/Atlanta_Black
Summary: There’s a tradition among the Slytherins. A ritual. The seventh year ‘leader’ will give each incoming seventh year a personalized dare. They must prove their worth before being allowed to move on to the next year. The teachers strictly forbid this practice but the children have never cared for what the teachers have to say.Only one person has failed so far. A boy in 1942 who had been admitted on a scholarship. No one remembered what the dare was or why he had failed. But everyone remembered the scandal that the school had hushed up.





	Here there be Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been betaed but will hopefully be continued! i wrote this for an exercise so I hope you enjoy!

There are rumours of a chamber that houses a monster so terrifying that no one will speak its name. A monster that feeds on memories, on things that could have been. 

_ Harry thinks it’s nonsense. Just something that’s been made up to scare the first years and he refuses to fall for it. He’s sixteen and shouldn’t be getting scared by bedtime stories.  _

They say the entrance to the chamber is on the second floor in the bathroom that regularly floods for unexplainable reasons. Some of the kids whisper that its a demon that refuses to be exorcised. No matter how many specialists the teachers call in, it refuses to leave. Almost as if it’s waiting for something. 

The teachers smile uneasily whenever it’s brought up. McGonagall, the maths professor, takes points from anyone she catches talking about it. Says it’s not becoming of them to be spreading baseless rumours but sometimes her voice wavers just a bit near the end. 

The rumours could have stayed just that, rumours. But fate loves to meddle and Harry has always been her favorite plaything. Her favorite shiny toy who somehow  _ always  _ manages to evade the path she has planned. 

There’s a tradition among the Slytherins. A ritual. The seventh year ‘leader’ will give each incoming seventh year a personalized dare. They must prove their worth before being allowed to move on to the next year. The teachers strictly forbid this practice but the children have never cared for what the teachers have to say. 

Only one person has failed so far. A boy in 1942 who had been admitted on a scholarship. No one remembered what the dare was or why he had failed. But everyone remembered the scandal that the school had hushed up. 

_Everyone remembers the aftermath._ _Remembers the girl, the blood, the screams. Remembers the boys mother promising revenge before flinging herself from the tallest tower. _

There’s something cold trickling down Harry’s spine. A sense of foreboding that makes him want to run. He’s only the second scholarship student since the school opened and even though his parents were alumni, he’s still regarded with something close approaching scorn. Still regarded as an outsider. 

They dare him to go to the second floor bathroom. Because of course they do. Any Slytherin worth their salt can see the way his eyes flicker away every time it’s brought up. Can see the way he avoids the second floor like a curse. He hadn’t wanted to be that obvious about it but  _ god _ . Everything about the second floor sets his skin on edge. Leaves him feeling like his heart has forgotten how to beat out a proper tempo. 

Harry goes to the second floor. Fights off the steadily increasing feeling of unease. The feeling that he needs to  _ run, run, run.  _ He places a hand on the door and grits his teeth as a shiver racks through his body. Hates that his weakness is so fucking obvious. 

He breathes in. Pushes open the door. Breathes out. Steps into the bathroom. 

It’s empty. Because of course it’s fucking empty. The monster isn’t real. There is no dead boy haunting a fucking bathroom and Harry feels like the biggest idiot of them all. There is  _ nothing _ to fear. He hates that even now his skin is crawling, that even though there is nothing here he still doesn’t feel safe. 

He laughs. A short, sharp sound that’s still tinged with fear. He has to stay in here all night. They never say what happens if you don’t complete the dare but the memory of the boy from all those years ago sits heavy in the back of everyone's mind. Lays like a blanket over the castle, the mere memory of him haunting them. 

The bathroom is cold. Seems to be steadily getting colder the longer he stands there staring at the tile. Another hysterical laugh tears out of him and he sinks down to the floor, back to the door. 

A sudden scraping noise has him jerking back, head hitting the door. He stares into the bathroom, heart thundering. The noise continues, stone against stone. Echoing through the bathroom.

He sobs, the sound muffled behind his hand. Doesn’t bother getting up. He’s going to die here. He just knows it. Is never going to get the chance to find out why his mother and father loved this school so much. Is never going to understand why Sirius looks so haunted by the thought of him being here. 

The sink is moving he notes. A hole opening in the middle of the bathroom and he wonders suddenly, if this is where the boy died. Wishes he knew his name, wishes he was anywhere but here. 

The sink stops moving. There’s an opening in the sink facing him and a hole that drops into darkness. For a moment, there’s silence. The quiet almost more terrifying in its unknown. 

And then there’s a boy. He steps out of the darkness, eyes gleaming red. His edges are muted, as if someone took an eraser to him and rubbed away at what’s holding him together. The boy tilts his head and Harry feels something in his chest catch. Is hyper-aware of the stone scraping against the back of his neck and the way his breath is coming in short, panicked pants. 

The boy tilts his head, drags his eyes from the tips of Harry’s worn trainers to the messy hair curled around his ears. The moment drags out, each breath feeling as if it lasts a lifetime. 

The boy smiles, the sight sending a chill down Harry’s spine. “Harry Potter.” he murmurs, drawing Harry’s name out as if he’s savoring it. “My name is Tom Riddle. I’ve been waiting for you. The child that was promised. The one who will release us.” 

_ Harry Potter disappears on an abnormally cold night in May. The second scandal the school has had in less than sixty years. Change is coming. The cursed ones are stirring and the castle remembers. Remembers the blood that stained her walls and the screams that still linger in her stone.  _

_ The teacher's eyes each other uneasily, memories of a girl with blood dripping from her teeth haunting them. They eye the steps to the tower, remember a woman who had smiled at them and promised vengeance. Remember the way she had flung herself from the tower and laughed.  _

_ We are coming, she had promised. We are coming and not even he can stop us. The child that is promised will be here soon. Born to those who have thrice aided us, born under the blood moon. Fates child is coming, prepare.  _

  
  
  



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